Ride Home

His mother’s eyes without a mouth in the mirror,
he slouches, rain-drenched, loose like a doll.

The one prize from the fair, the stuffed red giraffe
that she shelled out to help him win, curls in his arm.

This outing was their secret, her red circle made
on the calendar this morning, a day marked for nothing else.

To break the silence after each wipe on the windshield,
she asks him to name his favorite part.

The ball toss, he mutters, his focus on the window.
He picks a hair off his crown, scowls, sets it back.

The ball toss will do. A favorite of any kind leaves
the day won, resolved, a label stuck on what is clear.

At home, they will ease back into the put-off questions,
the studied tact, three asleep in different rooms.

The man will take the giraffe’s picture. The heater will start,
their shoes kicked off in a heap to dry together.

Over soup, they will say grace for what is second-rate —
thanks, like secrets, the art of leaving the right parts unsaid.

*First published in Angels in Seven (Moon Tide Press, 2016)

Michael Miller is the co-founder of Moon Tide Press, the author of five books of poetry, and a former entertainment and community news journalist for the Los Angeles Times. He currently teaches English and coordinates the visiting-author program at St. Cyril of Jerusalem School in Encino, California. You may read more about him and visit his blog at www.michaelmillerpoet.com.